Unexpected Oasis Read Online Free PDF Page A

their enthusiasm. They may all be hunky, beefcake types, but they might as well be my brothers. There is zero attraction on my part.
    "Easy, kids," I say as I walk over to Rick, grab the bottle and take a drink. I have to shake it off it's so horrible. "God, how do you drink that?" I ask as I hand the bottle back.
    Rick shrugs. "We're out of beer."
    "Ugh." I make another face and then turn back to my pool comrades. "You might as well be fighting over whose kickball team the kid with the broken ankle gets to play on," I continue. "Lucky shot. Trust me. And since Double D claimed me, he's stuck with me."
    "Fine with me."
    Unfortunately, for all my claims of mediocrity, I manage to play really well. I blame the bottle of antifreeze we're chugging. I'm about to sink the eight-ball when Rick shoots up out of the chair.
    "Liquor's here," he says, slipping a cell-phone back into his pocket.
    "Great." The guys simultaneously set down their pool cues.
    "Hold that thought," D tells me as he retrieves a gun from a pile of guns sitting on a table. I hadn't noticed them earlier. The other men follow his lead, picking up various weapons and stuffing them into holsters scattered on their bodies—hips, boots, thighs…
    "You guys look like you're getting ready for battle, not picking up a bottle of liquor."
    "You never know," Two Bit says with a shrug.
    "Stay here," D instructs and they file from the room.
    Confused, I sit in the armchair recently occupied by Rick. Why would they need guns to retrieve a bottle unless it was coming from outside the compound?
    Oh hell. It's coming from outside the compound.
    I go to the window and peer through the cheap plastic blinds. Even from here, I can clearly see the open gate. A beat-up Toyota Camry is pulling in.
    The gate closes as the car slows to a stop and a figure climbs out. He (I assume because the lack of burka) immediately gets a pat-down and then a handshake from each of the security team. The car is briefly searched before the visitor opens the trunk and pulls out a couple bottles. There's an exchange of bottles and money—again, I assume. It could be love notes for all I know. They then turn and head straight for me.
    Feeling like I've been busted spying—which I probably have—I release the blinds and step away from the window. The plastic slat snaps back into place with a "whap" and the feeling of being caught doing something wrong intensifies.
    I'm tempted to return to my room, but there's no way to get there without being spotted. My desire to be social really doesn't include hanging with the locals, at least not tonight, and I decide a trip to the bathroom is in order. I'm heading that way when the door opens and the visitor and security team step through it. They're all laughing.
    One of the bottles (filled with brown liquid this time) is already open and about a third emptied. How they were able to drink that much in the five minutes it took them to get from the gate to the rec room is beyond me.
    Two Bit offers me the bottle and I'm about to decline, but just as his hand shoots out with the liquor offering, the local says, "So, who's winning?" and I realize he isn't a local at all. 
    Based on appearance alone, it's impossible to tell. With his full dark beard, Turkish hat, traditional tunic and pajama pants, and sandals protecting feet that look like they haven't seen shoes in decades, he looks like a local. But he's definitely from the States. Somewhere on the east coast based on his accent.
    "Hermit Crab here has been running the table."
    The visitor stops short when he sees me. Though I'm completely caught off guard by Double D's sudden announcement, I thrust my hand forward. Forced confidence has always been one of my skills. "H.C. to my comrades here. My mother calls me Andrea."
    The stranger takes my hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Andrea. Your buddies call me K.Y., but my mother calls me Jon."
    "Why K.Y.?"
    "Cause he's the slipperiest devil we know," D chimes in. "Somehow